| 4 april 2001 APRIL 3 NEW review ! It will make you proud to eat hearty. Really.
| artist You'd think that, living in a small North Carolina city, that I'd have to drive to Raleigh or even Atlanta to see most independent or art movies. You'd be surprised to learn, however, that we have enough demand for such films to get our fair share at the North Point 5 Theatre. Given, we get them a month or two after I would have in Chicago, but it's usually worth the wait. What I can't see in the theatre here, I can usually get at West End Video, which specializes in foreign films and their ilk. Mayberry goes Citizen Kane . Anyway, Pollock finally opened here this week, much to my delight. I've never been a huge fan of his paintings, but have always respected him and Willem de Kooning for being the first widely-recognized Amerians to paint as they did. Stream of consciousness, with a paintbrush. The kind of guys with whom you're not expected to find meaning, but just enjoy the work. Works for me. Note: Marcia Gay Harden earned her Oscar. Watch the movie, if only to catch her. "Supporting Actress" my toe--she was totally a lead! Anyway... As a writer living in an artistic community, and running with artist friends; I saw a few people that I know in Pollock . The painter who is so self-involved with his own life and painting, that he insulates himself from the rest of the world. The needy artist, who doesn't realize you only survive so long on coffee and beer. The bitter guy, who never realizes that art is a business, too. That talent is no way to make a living until it's discovered. Sometimes, I hesitate to call myself an "artist" because of all of the negative stereotypes associated with it. Flaky , tortured , socially impaired come to mind. I know a few people who fit that stereotype. They're brilliant painters. If I had it my way, I'd cover my walls with their work and be happy to have it. But that doesn't mean that I want to date them, or even chat with them for more than fifteen minutes over coffee. Half the time, I can't make heads or tails of what one of them says when I do run into him. Pollock illustrates well the double-edged sword of being an artist in this country. If you are doing something original, something truly cutting-edge, only a few people are going to "get it". This makes perfect sense, and is first in the cycle of acceptance. If you get off on that sort of thing, this is the fun part of being an artist--the raised eyebrows, the wonderment as to what's going on in that artist head. It's fun for some people to have a cult following. It feels exclusive, and somewhat elite. But it's not a great way to make a living. Let's say the general public gets a hold of you, like they did Jackson Pollock in his Life Magazine profile. Now you're pop. You're the it artist. Your work skyrockets in value, a huge number of people will attest to your brillance, and you're now making a living as an artist. Glory be, and pass the caviar. You've made it. And now the cycle is complete--you're no longer cutting-edge. The cult is now comprised of Everyday Joe and Jane, and now it's time to either rest on your laurels, or find another boundary to stretch. It's difficult to put the artistic mind to rest that way. I guess that's why I sometimes have trouble saying, with full conviction, "yep, I'm an artist!" I look at my life, which seems entirely well-balanced. I make an okay living. I find time for my friends and family. I rarely feel tortured enough to qualify for the whole "artist" racket. And yet. I do write almost daily. I'm hard pressed to know what I'd be if I didn't write. I'm not so progressive, but I'm kind of "eh" on that, anyway. The art of everyday life--maybe finding art in our mundane little lives is the most cutting-edge thing we can do. |
